


Miserere

by anehan



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 05:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anehan/pseuds/anehan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atobe thinks he has always fulfilled his duties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miserere

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Duty-bound](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2931) by [Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin). 



> This fic is a spin-off of Lys ap Adin's fic [Duty-bound](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2931).
> 
> Many thanks to via_ostiense and fulminata for the beta.

Sanada and Keigo broke up two days before Keigo's omiai, although it was less breaking-up than a mutual agreement to go their separate ways. Keigo had loved Sanada in his own way, but he was not one to keep a lover when he was married.

"I gather you know this Saitou Yuuko-san, Mother?" Keigo asked as he was tying his tie.

Atobe Noriko rose from the armchair and crossed the room to him. "Let me do that for you. You'll just botch it."

"I'm perfectly capable of tying a tie," Keigo said. "I've done it almost every day since I was twelve."

"Of course you are, darling," Noriko said, "but you're too nervous to be doing a proper job of it now."

Keigo sighed and let her do what she wanted. If he was honest with himself, he _was_ a little nervous, though nowhere near enough for it to affect his ability to tie a tie. He had never gone on more than a few dates with a girl, and those days were long past, anyway.

"Saitou Yuuko-san, Mother?" Keigo reminded her to distract himself.

"Ah, yes," Noriko said. "She and her mother attend the same ikebana group that I do. She is a lovely girl. Such perfect manners! You'll be delighted with her, I'm sure."

Keigo gave a bland smile in response.

* * *

It was fifteen minutes into the date, and Keigo was ready to tear out his hair. He'd insisted on meeting Yuuko one-on-one, even though it wasn't how things were usually done. Now, he was regretting that decision. Yuuko kept looking at the tablecloth, and her answers to his questions were so short as to border on being monosyllabic. He had exhausted the weather (yes, it was too rainy), common literary tastes (none), common musical tastes (shakuhachi music), and common travel destinations (Paris and Rome).

Keigo was grasping at straws now. "I take it that you practise ikebana?" he asked, just to say something, and to his surprise, Yuuko came alive under his gaze. Her eyes sparkled, and at times, she even gestured with her hands.

"The feeling that envelops you when you concentrate on creating an arrangement, it's so calming," she said. She continued, blushing, "If I ever have a daughter, I want to teach her ikebana."

Keigo smiled at her, and she smiled back before ducking her head.

"I'm so sorry, I have spoken so much about myself," she whispered.

* * *

The person who had stifled Yuuko's self-confidence was certainly not her mother, Keigo thought. Saitou Atsuko was an older version of her daughter, only without the debilitating lack of confidence. She was dressed in Western clothes, though Keigo imagined that she would be entirely at home in a kimono. Yuuko's father, though, reminded Keigo of his own father.

When the older men were talking about business matters, Keigo turned to Yuuko and asked her about her latest ikebana lesson. When Yuuko was talking, Keigo happened to glance at her mother for a moment. He thought he could read approval in her smile.

After the Saitous had left, Keigo's father remarked abruptly, "She will make you a proper wife, Keigo. See that you don't mess things up."

Then he left for his library room, leaving Keigo alone with his mother.

* * *

As Keigo came home from the office one evening, Yuuko was there to welcome him.

"I didn't know you were to be here, Yuuko-san," he said.

"My mother and I have been looking at invitation cards with your mother," she said and smiled at him. "Would you like to come and look at them?"

Keigo agreed, and they made their way to his mother's personal sitting room.

"Ah, Keigo!" his mother called when they entered the room. "Come see the invitation card design that we have chosen for you and Yuuko-chan."

While Keigo exchanged a few words of greeting with Yuuko's mother, Yuuko darted to the table and brought the card over to Keigo.

Keigo looked at it and swallowed. The card was hideously gaudy, but Yuuko was looking at him with such desire for approval that he had no heart to tell her what he really thought about the card. "It is lovely," he said and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

Keigo made a mental note to send an invitation card to Sanada, although he was certain Sanada would not accept. It amused him to think of what Sanada would think about all the gilt and calligraphy. He certainly wouldn't think them proper at all.

* * *

The wedding was huge and Western, or as Western as the Japanese simulation of a Christian wedding ever was, and all of Keigo's former fellow regulars from Hyoutei were in attendance, some more and some less comfortable amidst all the socialites and company executives that his parents had invited. Shishido especially looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, never leaving Ootori's side.

When the evening was ending and Keigo was standing in the entrance hall of the Atobe residence, a voice spoke softly behind him, "If this were a Harry Potter novel, you could just take a lust potion and everything would be much easier."

Keigo turned around. "Must you be crude, Yuushi?"

Oshitari shrugged. "Crude is what I do."

"Isn't that the truth," Keigo muttered. "But not, I beg you, when my wife is anywhere near," he continued.

"Protective?" Oshitari raised his eyebrows.

"Well, I'm a married man now," Keigo said with a wry smile.

* * *

When Yuuko announced her pregnancy some months after the wedding, Keigo stopped visiting her bedroom at night. The thought of his wife did nothing to his libido, lovely though she was to look at. He had become used to the hard planes of a male body, and the softness of her breasts and the wetness between her legs did nothing to him. She didn't disgust him, but neither did he feel any burning desire to touch her.

It was not fair to Yuuko, though, and Keigo felt guilty about his decision. Granted, Yuuko was so wrapped up in her pregnancy that she didn't react in any way to the cessation of his visits.

The delivery was difficult. The doctors had to do a C-section, and Keigo paced the corridor outside the operating theatre for the entire duration of the procedure. He would have been worried about his wife, no matter who he had married, but while he paced the corridor, biting his fingernails, he realised that he had become fond of Yuuko. That if she did not survive, he would feel more than the general sorrow that he would feel at the death of someone he knew.

When the doctor came to tell him that his wife and daughter were safe, he almost fainted from relief and had to sit down on the floor and put his head between his knees to stop the world from spinning.

* * *

"What are you going to name the child, Keigo?" Keigo's mother asked. "Your father and I thought Junko would be a nice name."

Keigo tensed. "Which kanji would you use for the name?"

Noriko wrote the name down. It was just as Keigo had feared. 順子. An obedient child.

"I don't think Yuuko and I want to name the child Junko," he said quietly.

"Nonsense, my dear," Noriko said. "It's a perfectly good name. Your great-grandmother Atobe was called Junko, with different kanji. You would be honouring your ancestors by naming your first-born after her."

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no,' Keigo?" Noriko asked irritably.

"Surely you understand what 'no' means?" Keigo retorted. "This is my and Yuuko's child, and we will decide what is best for her."

"Then what are you going to name her?" Noriko asked, her voice cold.

"Aiko." They had talked about it, Yuuko and he, and had decided on Aiko, a loved child.

"Aiko? Hmph. You would be better off following your elders' advice."

"Perhaps. Nevertheless, that is what we will name her," Keigo said, and walked out of the room.

* * *

Little Aiko quickly became the darling of everyone in the house. Even Keigo's father would pat her on the head at times, though he was at home so little that she was shy around him.

Keigo's work often took him on long trips overseas, but every time he came home, invariably late at night, he would go to Aiko's room first to watch her sleep before going to say good night to his wife.

One evening, after a two-week trip, Keigo was home before Aiko's bedtime. He hurried towards their little family's suite in the Atobe residence. From the sitting room, he could hear Yuuko reading a story to Aiko. He cracked the door open and slipped inside. Both Yuuko and Aiko turned to look towards him, but when he walked towards Aiko's bed, Aiko buried her head in the pillow.

Keigo stopped. This hadn't happened before. True, Aiko had sometimes been a little wary at first after he came home after a long trip, but she had never hidden from him.

"What is it, darling?" Yuuko asked. "It's just Daddy."

Aiko didn't look up and merely shook her head. Keigo and Yuuko looked at each other for a long moment, and then Keigo excused himself and left the room. That night, he drank more than was good for him.

* * *

"I hate to broach this topic with you, Keigo, dear, but it has been three years already," his mother said one day when they were taking tea together. "Have you and Yuuko-san thought about having more children?"

"Mother," Keigo sighed.

"You know your father is expecting a grandson, my dear," she chided.

This really wasn't what Keigo wanted to talk about. He had hoped that his parents' silence on the subject had meant they were happy with his having produced a granddaughter for them, but he supposed it had been too optimistic of him.

"Mother, I will not discuss this with you," he said, and rose from the table. "Please excuse me, I have work to do."

However, the three-year peace was shattered. Keigo's mother took to hinting at the subject every so often, and even his father said in his terse way that Keigo had better get cracking and produce an heir.

"After all, we know that there's nothing wrong with either you or your wife, so I don't understand what the delay is," he said.

One evening, Keigo came to his wife's room to say good night and found her crying in front of her dressing table.

"My dear," he said, closing the door behind himself, "what is it?"

Yuuko merely shook her head. It took Keigo a long time to coax the story out of her, but eventually she managed to say that Keigo's mother had spoken to her about the lack of an heir. Sobs racked her slight body, and Keigo applied himself to the task of soothing her instead of going to his mother and shouting at her until she promised never to mention the subject to Yuuko again.

When she had calmed enough for the tears to have stopped, Yuuko said hesitantly, "Maybe we should try to have a baby?"

"Absolutely not," Keigo answered, his tone of voice gentle despite his unyielding words. "The doctors said you must not attempt another pregnancy, and your health is more important to me than what my parents want."

Yuuko smiled up at him, and he pressed a kiss to her brow.

The next day he spoke to his mother and extracted from her a promise that she would not pressure Yuuko any more.

Two months later, Keigo was coming home from a business trip that had lasted almost three weeks. The hour was advanced, but he wanted to see his wife. He went to her door and knocked softly, but there was no answer. He eased the door open quietly and saw her sleeping in the bed. The room was swathed in shadows, the only light being the full moon that shone from the window. It made everything seem otherworldly.

Keigo approached the bed and frowned. His wife was a light sleeper and usually woke up when she heard the door open and close. Maybe she had had a bad evening and had taken a sleeping pill, Keigo thought. He sat next to her on the bed and smoothed her hair away from her face.

Her skin was cold to his touch, and Keigo snatched his hand away, dread gathering in his stomach. He switched the lamp on the bedside table on and looked at Yuuko's face. It was pale and still. He tried to search for a pulse in her neck, but he couldn't find it. He felt cold all over, and he looked around for some kind of clue for what had happened. On the bedside table there was an empty glass, an empty bottle of sleeping pills and a letter that was addressed to him. He picked up the letter and unfolded it.

_Dear Keigo,_

_I cannot go on any longer. I am not fit to be your wife when I cannot give you an heir. Tonight, I will remove myself from your way, and I hope you will find a new wife, someone who can fulfil her duty to the family._

_Take care of Aiko for me._

_Love,_  
 _Yuuko_

Keigo lowered the letter to his lap. He sat on the bed, unmoving, for a long time. Eventually he got up, fished his mobile phone from his briefcase and called the emergency number. He knew it was too late, but he didn't know what else he could do. When the ambulance and the police came, he went out to receive them.

When the paramedics were carrying Yuuko's body into the ambulance, Keigo's parents came down from their rooms. He ignored them and continued to answer the policemen's questions. And when the policemen turned to his parents and he had to listen to his mother confessing to harassing Yuuko about her "refusal to have another child," his expression didn't change at all from the politely distant one he had been wearing the whole night.

"Aiko and I will be moving out at the earliest opportunity," he informed his parents and went upstairs to tell Aiko the news that she was motherless at the age of four. He had duties – he'd had duties all his life, and he'd always fulfilled them – but in his mind he no longer owed his parents anything. His main duty in life was now Aiko. Yuuko had entrusted her to his care, and care for her he would.

The next morning he resigned from his position in his father's company. He had enough money to his name to live perfectly comfortably. His father could take his expectations and shove them wherever he wanted.

* * *

Small children are resilient, Keigo thought, as he watched Aiko play with a doll. There was no clinginess anymore, unlike the first few months. Aiko had adapted well to living only with Keigo, better than Keigo himself had. It had been seven months since his wife's death, and although the rawest edge of the grief had dulled, he was reminded of her every day when he looked at Aiko.

Evenings and nights were the most difficult. Aiko was sleeping, and the flat was deathly quiet. Sometimes he couldn't sleep at all, but he refused to touch sleeping pills. Those nights, the glow of the computer was his only companion.

One night he was leafing through the post when he came across a Japanese girls' magazine. It must have been something that Oshitari had left in the flat the previous day. Keigo turned it over in his hands. It had Yukimura Seiichi's picture on the front.

Keigo wasn't usually interested in the thought processes of teenage girls, but he figured he'd soon enough have one of them on his hands, so he might as well start acclimating. It was thus that he came across Yukimura's latest interview. That in itself was nothing remarkable, but Oshitari had highlighted a section from the interview.

**Interviewer:** You have said before that tennis is your lover. Does that still hold true?

**Yukimura:** [smiles] Well, tennis is still just as important to me, but there is someone there now.

**Interviewer:** This bit of news is sure to break the hearts of some of our readers. Can you tell us who she is?

**Yukimura:** [doubles over laughing]

So Sanada and Yukimura had finally got their acts together. About time, Keigo thought. Those two were pigheaded at the best of times, but it had still taken them unreasonably long. Still, lucky Sanada. He had found his other half. The bastard had better appreciate what he had and be happy.

* * *

On the first Obon festival, almost a year after his wife's death, Keigo went to visit her grave. He was not religious, but custom was custom.

"I'm sorry," he said, to the ether somewhere. "I'm sorry for failing you, Yuuko."

A day didn't pass without him remembering how much he was to blame in Yuuko's death. He had been incapable of protecting her from his parents, and this was the result. He should have done more, moved them out of his parents' house, something. He should have known his mother and father would not let the matter of his and Yuuko's having failed to produce an heir lie.

Keigo was so deep in thought that he did not hear the footsteps that brought another person to his side. It was only when a deep voice said "Atobe-san" to him that he was brought out of his reverie. He jumped in fright and turned around. It took him a moment to find his voice.

"Tezuka, if it's your intention to scare me to death, you're doing a good job."

Something that could have been a smile passed on Tezuka's face before his expression grew serious. "I was sorry to hear about your wife."

Keigo inclined his head graciously. He didn't like this, but he was used to it, the expressions of condolence from everyone. At first they had made him want to howl his grief and rage to the world, to tell everyone what his parents had done. The urge had been tempered later by his realisation of his own failure to protect Yuuko.

Keigo took in Tezuka's appearance. He was wearing linen trousers and a lavender shirt, looking cool and unaffected by the hot weather. Keigo himself would not allow anything as trivial as hot weather to make him look anything except drop dead gorgeous, but few people could match him in that. It didn't exactly surprise him to find out that Tezuka was one of those people.

Keigo couldn't help noticing that Tezuka was, if possible, even more handsome than he'd been in high school. Keigo had seen pictures of Tezuka, of course, and had watched his matches from the television, but it was different seeing Tezuka live. Pictures and the television didn't broadcast the certain something that Tezuka exuded.

"Have you been visiting the grave of a relative?" Keigo asked Tezuka.

Tezuka nodded. "My grandfather died three years ago. I try to come here every year with my parents. They are over there." He nodded towards a couple that was engaged in tidying a grave some way off from where he and Keigo were standing.

"Luckily, my parents had the sense to stay away," Keigo muttered to himself.

"I'm sorry?" Tezuka said.

"Oh, nothing," Keigo answered.

Tezuka looked at him but let the matter drop.

"Why don't you introduce me to your parents? I don't think I've ever met them," Keigo said, and although Tezuka looked startled, or as startled as someone with Tezuka's poker face _could_ look, he took Keigo over to his parents.

After Tezuka had performed the introductions, Keigo had to suffer through the expressions of condolence once again. It was no surprise that the Tezukas knew about Yuuko's death; her suicide had been all over the papers, although the papers could print only speculations about what had happened. The Atobes' servants were all extremely discreet, and the police apparently didn't want to anger someone as influential as Keigo's father.

After exchanging pleasantries for some time, Tezuka's mother suggested that Tezuka and Keigo go off on their own. "After all, you must have a lot of catching up to do."

"Mother," said Tezuka. "I'm sure Atobe-san is a busy man and has no time—"

"Actually, I would like to continue our conversation somewhere," Keigo interrupted, surprising not only Tezuka but himself as well. He and Tezuka had never been friends. Mutually respectful rivals was the closest they had ever come to it in their relationship.

* * *

Keigo had invited Tezuka out to dinner, which was how they found themselves in a shadowed corner of a French restaurant that Keigo frequented. Keigo had kept a flow of small talk during the ride there, and Tezuka had responded when the situation had called for it.

"Atobe-san," Tezuka said after they'd ordered.

"What's the matter, Tezuka?" Keigo interrupted, amused. "You didn't use to be so formal with me at school."

"School was school, Atobe," Tezuka said, but he dropped the honorific.

Keigo grinned, shark-like. He didn't want politeness from Tezuka, although what exactly it was that he wanted, he didn't know.

Tezuka raised his eyebrow. "You really like getting your own way, don't you?"

"And that surprises you why, exactly?"

"It shouldn't have," Tezuka answered, his lips twitching, and Keigo stared at him, fascinated. Apparently time had changed Tezuka. At high school he'd been so prim and proper that Keigo had been sure that he'd had a poker rammed straight up his, well, someplace. Maybe living away from home had been good for Tezuka. It certainly had been good for Keigo during his university days, but then he had moved back into his family home when he'd gotten married. Keigo's brow clouded, and he stared at his glass of wine with unblinking eyes.

"What is it?" Tezuka asked, but Keigo ignored him and downed his wine. Then he flashed a charming smile at Tezuka, which he was sure would do nothing to alleviate Tezuka's concern but which was better than hurling the wine glass at the wall.

"So, when is your next tournament?" Keigo asked, and although Tezuka gave him a long look, he answered Keigo's question, and the conversation turned to Tezuka's career. It lasted through the main course. This was another change in Tezuka: he was more willing to talk than when they'd last seen each other, at least when it came to tennis, although he still was unwilling to talk about his own achievements.

During the dessert, silence fell, but it was a comfortable silence. When Keigo looked up from his mousse, he found Tezuka studying him with a thoughtful look. Keigo cocked an eyebrow, and they were locked in something that was not quite a staring match. Eventually, Keigo lowered his eyes and ate the last of his mousse.

"Are you staying long in Tokyo?" he asked.

The abrupt question didn't seem to faze Tezuka at all. "I leave in ten days."

Keigo nodded and then surprised himself by asking Tezuka out for another meal in a week.

"All right," Tezuka answered, after a moment's pause.

At home, Keigo fell on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Luckily, Aiko was at Yuuko's parents' place, because Keigo didn't feel up to dealing with his 5-year-old daughter at that moment. What had possessed him to invite Tezuka to dinner not only once, but twice? And moreover, what had made Tezuka accept the invitations? He didn't know, so he pushed the questions out of his mind. Avoidance for the win, he thought and got up to switch the computer on. No time like the present for some light work, which was why he went to bed at two o'clock in the morning, bleary-eyed and dead on his feet.

* * *

A week later, Keigo deposited Aiko in her maternal grandparents' tender care and set off for a Japanese restaurant in Ginza. He arrived early and sat looking out of the window. The view was magnificent from high above the ground, and it reminded him of his love for Tokyo. He'd lived in London and travelled around the world, but nothing really compared to Tokyo.

When Tezuka sat across from him, he gestured out and asked, "Don't you miss all this when you're on tour?"

"A little," Tezuka answered, "but I'm happy almost everywhere."

Keigo cocked his head. Tezuka wasn't wearing his customary glasses, and it was fascinating to see him without them.

"It's a cliché, true, but home is where the heart is," Tezuka said.

"And where is the heart?" Keigo asked softly.

"It has no special place at the moment," Tezuka answered and looked at Keigo steadily.

Keigo smiled. Life was looking good.

Dinner was a quiet affair, but the air was charged with something that made Keigo's skin feel too tight. He followed the path Tezuka's chopsticks made between the bowls on the table and his mouth. A drop of sauce clung to Tezuka's lips, and Keigo reached over and swiped the sauce gently with his finger and brought the finger to his own mouth. Tezuka's eyes flickered to Keigo's mouth, and that small glance felt like a thousand caresses on Keigo's skin.

He swallowed, and there was none of the customary arrogance in his voice when he asked, "My place?"

Tezuka's hand stilled and hovered above his rice bowl, and when he nodded, Keigo felt like he had won the world. Even winning the Zenkoku hadn't felt like this, maybe because he hadn't given himself the permission to feel like this then.

Life couldn't go on smoothly, though, so when they stepped out of the restaurant, a flash went off. The restaurant had an absolute no-cameras policy, but apparently a customer had recognised them and had called the yellow press. The reporter opened his mouth to ask a question, but Keigo silenced him with one look and steered Tezuka towards his car. When the car door closed behind them and the driver pulled off, Keigo swore long and colourfully. It appeared that just when he was getting something he wanted for the first time in years, it was snatched away from him.

"I'm sorry for that," he sighed. "That photo is probably going to be plastered on the front pages of the yellow press tomorrow." He gave a short laugh. "There's been a dearth of good stories lately."

"Atobe," Tezuka said quietly, and Keigo turned to look at him. "That doesn't change anything."

Keigo's breath hitched at Tezuka's look, and the time dragged on. The rules were that Keigo couldn't have what he wanted. Apparently, no one had mentioned that rule to Tezuka.

Finally, Keigo dragged his eyes away from Tezuka. "My place," he said to the driver.

* * *

The flat was swathed in shadows when Keigo and Tezuka came in. The lights of Tokyo's cityscape were the only ones providing light. There'd also been a photographer outside the gates of the building, but Tezuka hadn't paid any attention to him, which had calmed Keigo's anxiety. He felt centred, and the quietness and dimness of the flat calmed him further.

He walked to his bedroom and felt more than heard Tezuka following him. He turned around, and they just looked at each other. Tezuka seemed oddly stripped bare of colours by the lack of lighting, although his hair and skin were washed neon by the city's lights. The lack of his usual glasses was making him look more approachable.

Tezuka walked across the room to Keigo. His fingers were steady on the buttons of Keigo's shirt, and they accidentally brushed Keigo's skin. Slowly, he unbuttoned the shirt and pushed it off Keigo's shoulders. It fell to the floor, and Keigo shivered.

"Cold?" Tezuka asked softly, and Keigo shook his head. He wasn't cold at all. He was too hot, and if Tezuka didn't do anything, he was going to burst out of his skin.

"Easy."

The steady weight of Tezuka's hands on Keigo's shoulders made Keigo sigh, and some of the urgency fled him. It was weird being like this, though: wanting to prolong this for as long as possible, and at the same time, wanting to get on with it. Tezuka wasn't getting on with it with any hurry, though, so Keigo figured he could either fret or go with the flow. At one time, he'd been patient in bed, but that had been six years ago. Six long years of having only his hand for company, and he was craving human touch.

He was slipping into his own thoughts, so when Tezuka's lips brushed against his, he was startled. Tezuka drew back and smiled at him, and then he closed in again and really kissed Keigo. His mouth was soft against Keigo's, and Keigo gasped and opened his mouth. He clung to Tezuka like a drowning man and kissed back with all he had.

When Tezuka drew back, Keigo was left panting. He wanted Tezuka, badly, and he guessed there was no mistaking that it had been a long time for him.

Tezuka's next words confirmed that for him. "Been a long time?"

"Six years," Keigo said in a low voice.

"Then just relax and enjoy this," Tezuka said, and there was understanding in his voice.

He pushed Keigo onto the bed, and Keigo fell onto it with a thump, watching in fascination as Tezuka unbuttoned his own shirt and shrugged it off. His skin was golden, although there were tan lines on his arms: an abrupt one on his right bicep and a gradual one on his left. Keigo wanted to lick those lines, but he didn't have the opportunity to do that when Tezuka kissed him again and he forgot all about anything else.

Tezuka's hands were sweeping across Keigo's chest and arms, and when he finally drew back and touched Keigo's belt, Keigo's hips bucked up. He wasn't going to last long, he just knew it, but he was past caring about it. So when Tezuka went down on him, he just threw his head back and enjoyed it for as long as it was going to last.

When he came back from his high, Tezuka was stretched out beside him and was tracing patterns on his chest. The urgency he'd felt was gone, replaced by a pleasant languor, but he still very much wanted to return the favour for Tezuka. He pushed Tezuka onto his back, grinned wickedly and set to work playing Tezuka's body. And judging from Tezuka's responses, he hadn't lost his touch at all in the last six years. Keigo allowed himself a smug smile.

* * *

The light shining through the windows woke Keigo up, and he stretched. He was feeling like he didn't have a care in the world, and even the fact that he soon realised he was alone in the flat couldn't really dim his good mood.

He got up and found a piece of paper on the kitchen counter. On it was a neatly-penned series of numbers with _Tezuka_ written below. A phone number, Keigo recognised, and smiled. Life was really looking up.

* * *

"Tezuka, Keigo?" Oshitari said first thing when Keigo answered his phone later that day.

"And good afternoon to you, too, Yuushi," Keigo said, amused.

"Yeah, yeah, good afternoon and all that shit. Now, about these photos of you and Tezuka?" Oshitari sounded bored, but Keigo knew him well enough that he recognised that Oshitari was dying from curiosity.

Keigo considered stringing Oshitari on for a while, but decided to take pity on him. He was in too good of a mood to do anything else. "Yes, we fucked. And yes, it was fucking awesome."

The line was silent for a few moments, before Oshitari chuckled. "My, my, Keigo. Details, please."

Keigo laughed out loud and settled in for a long call. Oshitari was addicted to romance, and there was no way Keigo could persuade him that his and Tezuka's affair was not a grand, romantic fairy tale. He wasn't sure he even wanted to do that.

After he ended the call, his phone buzzed almost immediately. It was a text from Sanada's number, and Keigo's brow rose. He opened his message.

_so you've managed to bag tezuka. good for you. just remember to keep your hands off my boyfriend. yukimura_

Keigo chuckled. Yukimura, always such a possessive bastard. He typed a reply.

_Sanada, keep your boyfriend away from your phone, and tell him to learn to use proper Japanese. Oh, and congratulations. It was high time._

When his phone rang a few minutes after he'd sent the text, he answered it with a casual hello without looking at the name displayed on the screen. That was a serious mistake as he found out the next moment as his mother's faint voice echoed from the phone.

"Keigo," she said in a voice that suggested that she was dying of consumption. She always used that voice when she wanted something, and it made Keigo want to hurl his phone at the wall. "Must you drag your affairs into the papers?"

Keigo gritted his teeth, counted to ten in Japanese, counted to ten in English and finally counted to ten in German. Backwards.

"Keigo?"

He let his breath go explosively. He was fighting a losing battle against his temper. "What possible business is it of yours what I do with my life?"

"Keigo, dear, your father almost got a heart attack when he saw the pictures, and I had to take to my bed for a few hours," she admonished.

"And why the fuck do you think I care a whit about what you or my father thinks?"

"Keigo!"

"Mother!" he mimicked. "You gave up your right to have any say in my life with what happened with my wife. I don't owe you anything, and I don't care what you say."

"Keigo, don't you dare speak to me like that!"

"Goodbye, mother," he said firmly and shut the phone. He didn't pay it any attention when it rang a moment later again. He only massaged his temples as he felt a headache coming on. So much for his good mood.

Coffee, that's what he needed, he thought, and wandered to the kitchen. The slip of paper Tezuka had left for him was still on the kitchen counter, and he fingered it. It was written on his writing paper, and Tezuka's handwriting was just like Tezuka himself: neat but not characterless. Somehow looking at Tezuka's handwriting calmed him. His anger at his parents began, if not to dissipate, then at least to take a back seat, so when Yuuko's mother came with Aiko, he was calmer, though not as calm as he'd have liked to be in front of Aiko.

Saitou Atsuko took one look at him. "I'm guessing your mother has called."

Keigo looked chagrined. "Am I that transparent?"

"There's a tightness here," she said and gently touched the corner of his eye. "I can't imagine who else would have put it there. Not after last night." She looked slyly at him, and Keigo, inexplicably, blushed.

He busied himself with making tea for the three of them to hide his reaction, and Yuuko's mother chuckled. She was one of his favourite people, but she always managed to make him feel so young. It was not a bad feeling, but for someone who had taken care of himself since he was in middle school, it was a disconcerting feeling.

He carried the tea to the sitting room and served it. Aiko was sitting on the tatami, and in front of her was the tabloid whose front page Keigo and Tezuka were gracing.

"Who is that man, Daddy?" she asked, and pointed at the picture of them entering Keigo's apartment building.

Keigo sighed and sat down next to her. Luckily, she wouldn't know the meaning of that picture.

"His name is Tezuka Kunimitsu, and he's a tennis player," he answered.

"Like you are, Daddy?" Aiko asked.

"Much better than me, Aiko," he said with a fond smile. "He's a professional tennis player. It means that it's his job to play tennis, and he practises many hours every day."

"Wow!" Aiko said, her eyes round. "Is someone really better at tennis than you?"

At the age of five, Aiko had just began to play tennis and she loved it.

"Many people are better than me," Keigo said.

It had not always been so. He wasn't one for regrets, but sometimes, especially when he played with Aiko, he thought of what could have been.

He quickly thrust those thoughts aside. "I think I have a recording of Tezuka playing somewhere. Would you like to see it?"

And that was how he found himself watching the previous year's final at Wimbledon. Aiko's eyes were glued to the screen, and Keigo spent more time looking at her than at Tezuka and Yukimura play. When the drawn-out match finally ended, Keigo took Aiko to bed.

"Daddy? Can I play with that man some time?" Aiko asked when Keigo had tucked her into bed.

"I don't know, darling."

"Hmph," Aiko huffed.

Keigo kept smoothing her hair, and she began to drop into sleep.

"Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't we ever see Grandma Atobe any more?"

Keigo's hand stilled. "What do you mean? You saw Grandma Atobe at the beginning of summer."

"But I see Grandma and Grandpa Saitou every week. We used to live with Grandma Atobe. I liked her."

Keigo swallowed. He was so not prepared for this conversation. "It's complicated, dear," he said to gain time.

"Why?" Aiko asked sleepily.

Keigo was silent for a minute or two. He tried to gather his thoughts, but he could come up with nothing that he cared to tell his daughter. The truth was absolutely out of question, yet there was nothing else he could say.

He glanced at Aiko. She had fallen asleep.

Keigo wandered into the living room and stood in front of the windows, looking out at the Tokyo cityscape but not really seeing it. He'd been let off the hook for now, but who knew when Aiko would get it into her head to question him again. Next time, he might not be so lucky.

He glanced at his phone, which was on the coffee table. He was feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he was feeling off-kilter and wanted some time to find his balance, but on the other hand, he desperately wanted to talk to Tezuka. He hesitated a moment and then opened his phone before he could change his mind.

"Tezuka."

"Tezuka, it's Atobe."

"Ah, Atobe. How has the day been?" Tezuka's voice was deep and steady, and already Keigo felt himself unwinding.

He flopped onto the sofa. "Exhausting. I presume you have seen the pictures?"

"I have. I gather that not everyone has approved of them?"

"You could say that," Keigo sighed.

"Regrets?" Was that apprehension in Tezuka's voice? Keigo wasn't sure.

"None."

"Good."

Keigo let his head drop back against the back of the sofa as they lapsed into a comfortable silence. It lasted maybe a minute or so before Tezuka broke it.

"Was breathing silently at me the reason you called?" Tezuka was clearly amused, and Keigo couldn't help but chuckle as well.

"Well, no," he said, and fell silent again.

Tezuka tolerated it for approximately half a minute before saying: "Atobe. Whatever it is, just spit it out."

"What makes you think I have something to spit out?" Keigo countered.

"Because throughout the time I've known you, you've never been at a loss for words. Don't tell me you've started now."

Keigo laughed out loud. "True enough, I suppose." Then he sighed. "It's my daughter. She asked me why we never see my mother any more."

"And why don't you?"

"Because she only fucking hounded my wife about providing an heir until my wife committed suicide! That's why!" Keigo gritted his teeth. "I'm not going to give her a chance to damage Aiko in any way."

"I'm possibly the last person you should ask for advice, as I've never met your mother, but would she really do that?" Tezuka asked in a calm voice.

"Yes! No! I don't know," Keigo said. He pulled at his hair, frustrated, before smoothing it again.

"Is there anyone who you could ask for an opinion?"

Keigo was silent for a moment. "I do trust my mother-in-law's opinion."

"Then talk to her."

* * *

The phone call with Tezuka had calmed Keigo. He was still a bit unsure about why exactly he'd called Tezuka to talk about the situation with Aiko and his mother to begin with. Still, Tezuka's advice was solid, so he sought his mother-in-law's advice.

She listened to him describe the problem, and then said, "I know your mother, and she dotes on Aiko. Do you really think she'd harm her in any way?"

"I guess not."

She regarded him for a moment. "Keigo, what is the real reason you don't want Aiko to meet your mother?"

Keigo swallowed. It felt like a lump had gathered in his throat. Atsuko had always had a knack at seeing at the core of a problem. In that way, she was similar to him. Insight, they'd called his ability at school. Well, his mother-in-law was even better at insight than he was.

"Because I can't stand to be in her presence," Keigo said. It wasn't something he was proud of.

"I rather thought that must be it," Atsuko said. "But Keigo, is it fair to Aiko to deprive her of her grandmother? You're an adult. You can handle being in your mother's company for the time it takes to drop Aiko at your parents' house."

"How can you be so forgiving? She caused your daughter's death!" It was something Keigo couldn't understand. He didn't hold grudges himself, but even he had trouble being civil to his parents after what they'd done.

"I haven't forgiven her for that, Keigo," Atsuko said, and for the first time Keigo saw something hard in her expression. "I just don't see any point in wasting my energy hating her or your father."

* * *

Keigo had just arrived and seated himself when Oshitari flopped down in front of him. The hot and humid weather persisted, and Oshitari's usual cool had deserted him. He looked irritated as he poured himself a glass of water and downed it. Keigo raised an eyebrow, and Oshitari scowled in reply.

"Damn, why must it be so hot," he grumbled. "We could be at the mountains, but no, you just had to cut yourself off from your parents."

Keigo's expression hardened. "Yuushi," he warned, and Oshitari dropped his eyes.

"I know. I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

"It was," Keigo agreed, but his eyes lost their hard expression.

They ordered, and when their coffees had arrived and the waiter had departed, Oshitari looked at Keigo contemplatively.

"I know this topic is verboten, but you should really talk to someone about your relationship with your parents."

"Restrain yourself, Yuushi. I'm not one of your patients – I'm sorry, clients" Keigo retorted.

Oshitari levelled a look at him. "Fine, we won't talk about it." Then he smirked. "Tell me about you and Tezuka instead."

Keigo burst out laughing. "You've got a one-track mind, Yuushi."

Oshitari shrugged. "What can I say? I've no one myself, so I've got to live vicariously through you."

"And the fact that you're a horrid romantic has nothing to do with it?"

Oshitari raised his eyebrow. "So you're saying that your and Tezuka's affair _is_ romantic?"

"Touché," Keigo said, and contemplated the ceiling for a moment. "The truth is, I don't know."

"Is he still in Tokyo?"

"No, he's back in Germany, training for the U.S. Open."

Keigo didn't say it to Oshitari, but Tezuka had told him it would be his last tournament before he retired from an active career. Keigo understood. He was almost thirty and plagued by a history of injuries. It would be sensible to stop while he was still ahead, and Tezuka was nothing if not— wait a minute. Keigo snorted. Remembering their match during their last year of middle school – no, Tezuka could be reckless when it came to tennis.

Oshitari looked at him queerly but didn't ask what Keigo was thinking about. "Do you talk to him by phone?" he asked instead, and Keigo sobered up.

"Practically every day," he admitted.

"And still you say that you don't know if your affair is romantic or not?" Oshitari asked incredulously. "Keigo, dear, you're taking denial to new heights."

Keigo tossed his hair. "I'm not in denial."

Oshitari eyed him sceptically. "Whatever you say."

Keigo flicked a sugar packet at Oshitari, who ducked it, laughing.

* * *

The U.S. Open came, and Keigo and Aiko were glued to the screen of Keigo's television. Aiko had watched all of Keigo's recordings of Tezuka playing multiple times and was a great fan of his. She wanted to play tennis so that she could be "ready when Tezuka-san comes back to Japan."

"You _are_ going to meet him again, Daddy, aren't you? And then I can play with him?" Aiko asked.

"I'll see what I can do," Keigo answered, amused. He was looking forward, a little evilly, to Tezuka meeting Aiko. Tezuka wouldn't know what had hit him.

They had continued their daily calls throughout August, just as Keigo had told Oshitari, but he still didn't know quite what to make of it all. They hadn't talked about their relationship at all. On the one hand, Keigo was thankful for it, but on the other hand, it left him floundering.

Next to him, Aiko cheered, and Keigo turned his attention towards the screen. Tezuka had just scored a point, and the situation at the last game was 40-30. One point, and that would be it. Tezuka served, and the rally was on. It was incredible. This was tennis as it should be, both players giving everything they had. They had no choice. To be less than completely engaged would mean defeat. They were that even, Tezuka and Yukimura.

It was a small mistake on Yukimura's part, so small that Keigo almost missed it. Tezuka, however, didn't, and a deep cross-shot later, the score was 3-2, and that was that. Aiko was jumping up and down on the sofa. Keigo remembered Tezuka's expression after their game at middle school. He had given his everything then, just as he'd done here, even though the level of tennis was completely different here.

When Tezuka was asked in the press conference about his next tournament, Keigo held his breath. He let it out in a whoosh after Tezuka said that he was quitting and the air was suddenly full of questions.

"Daddy, what are they saying?" Aiko tugged at his sleeve.

"Tezuka just said that he's quitting professional tennis," Keigo said absent-mindedly. He then realised what he'd said, froze, and turned to Aiko. She was looking at him with huge eyes and her lip was trembling.

"Oh, darling," Keigo said and gathered her into his lap. "It's not the end of the world. He'll still be playing tennis, just like I am although I didn't become a professional player."

Aiko was sobbing now. "But I wanted to play with him! And no-o-o-ow he's sto-o-opping!"

"You can still play with him, darling, I promise," he vowed.

"Really?" Aiko asked, sniffling a little.

"Really," Keigo assured. "Tell you what, I'll ask him to play with you when he comes back to Tokyo."

That seemed to calm Aiko. He hadn't talked to Tezuka about Aiko's wish to play with him at all because of his uncertainty about their relationship. Tezuka was coming to Japan straight from the U.S., though, and Keigo resolved to ask him to play Aiko then.

* * *

Keigo met Tezuka at the door. They'd forgone meeting somewhere else. Neither was particularly keen to be the target of photographers, who were all the more eager to catch a glimpse of Tezuka especially now that he'd announced the end of his career.

"You wear a lot of lavender," Keigo said when Tezuka stepped inside.

"An interesting greeting, Atobe," Tezuka said.

"Whatever," Keigo waved his hand. "It suits you."

"Thank you," Tezuka answered gravely.

Their eyes connected, and Keigo burst out laughing while Tezuka's lips twitched.

"Fine. So it was a weird greeting," he conceded. "Tea? Or something stronger?"

"Tea is fine."

Keigo busied himself with brewing the tea, while Tezuka stood at the window looking out at the city spread out before them. Keigo had dropped Aiko at his parents' house earlier with mixed feelings. On the one hand, he recognised the justice of his mother-in-law's words: his mother would not harm Aiko, and it was not fair to deprive Aiko of one set of her grandparents. On the other hand, he didn't want to let them inflict their expectations of propriety on Aiko.

However, Aiko had been a little ball of restless energy the whole afternoon, and when it had finally been time to take her to her grandparents' house, Keigo had merely been relieved to be rid of her for the rest of the evening. He still couldn't stand the thought of being in his parents' company, though, so he had stayed only to tell them that the driver would be fetching Aiko the next day and taking her to the tennis club, where Keigo would meet her for practice. Keigo didn't elect to inform his parents, or Aiko for that matter, that Tezuka had promised to be there as well.

Keigo carried the tea to the low table on the tatami and called Tezuka over.

"What do you think about meeting Aiko?" he asked.

Tezuka blinked. "Nothing much. Should I think something special?"

"No, no. Not at all." Keigo hid his smile behind his cup.

They sipped their tea and talked about inconsequential things. Tezuka was just telling Keigo about the press conference after the U.S. Open, when Keigo set his own teacup on the table. He then crossed to the other side of the table, knelt down, took Tezuka's cup out of his hand and set it on the table.

"I'm tired of talking," he said. "I've been talking to you on the phone for the past month and a half. I think it's time we did something else."

Then he kissed Tezuka.

For a split second, Tezuka was still before he responded to Keigo's kiss. Then his hands were at Keigo's back, and Keigo straddled him. He slipped his hands under Tezuka's shirt and smoothed them across his back. Tezuka's skin was warm, and Keigo wanted to feel it against his own skin. He broke the kiss and got up.

"I refuse to fuck here. It wouldn't do at all to get tatami burn on my butt," he said, and offered a hand to Tezuka.

Tezuka snorted but accepted the hand. Keigo grinned and led Tezuka to his bedroom. They fell on the bed. Tezuka pinned his arms, and Keigo said, "Oh no, you don't," and flipped them over. Tezuka laughed, and Keigo felt something warm burst in his chest.

Later, they were lying in the bed, Keigo's head on Tezuka's shoulder, when Tezuka spoke.

"What do you want from me, Atobe?" Tezuka asked.

Keigo tensed. He hadn't prepared for this kind of question. "What do you mean?" he said to buy time.

"I mean, you haven't once during the past month and a half indicated what you want from me, from this relationship." Tezuka's voice was calm and gentle. "What do you want?"

And that was the question. Keigo didn't know. He wasn't used to a situation where his wants and needs mattered, not when it came to something really important. He buried his face in Tezuka's shoulder as he shuddered.

* * *

"What do you want?"

Such a simple question, but one that had undone Keigo completely.

"I can't," he said, and pushed himself aside. He put on his boxer-briefs and walked to the sitting room to pour himself a glass of whisky. He downed it in one go, and little by little, the shaking of his hands began to subside.

He walked to the window and felt Tezuka follow him and rest his hand on the small of his back. They were reflected on the window glass, Tezuka slightly behind him, still taller than he was. Tezuka was patiently waiting for him to speak.

"I can't remember when someone last asked me what I want," he said eventually. "My parents don't care, and most other people think they know the answer already."

He stared out of the window.

"I used to know what I was supposed to do, you know, but it all fell apart when Yuuko died," he continued. "Yuushi would say that I wasn't dealing with it at all, and I guess he would be right. I dealt with it by not dealing with it. I just concentrated on Aiko and tried to forget about myself."

"And now?" Tezuka asked in a low voice.

"Well, now I guess I have to deal with it," Keigo gave a self-deprecating laugh, "lest I lose something I don't want to lose."

"I can be patient," Tezuka said, and turned Keigo towards himself. "As long as you're making an effort to deal with your wife's death, as long as you're thinking about what you want, I can wait."

Keigo wound his arms around Tezuka and rested his forehead on Tezuka's shoulder. "Thank you."

"For what exactly?"

"For being patient. For caring in the first place. For being you."

* * *

They had sat on the sofa and spent time alternately talking and just sitting in quiet. Eventually, sleep had beckoned and they had retired to the bedroom. The next morning, Keigo woke up with someone in his bed for the first time since his affair with Sanada had ended. He smiled and stretched, feeling content.

"You look like the cat that got the cream," Tezuka murmured.

Keigo grinned. "Wasn't that what I did get?"

That surprised a laugh out of Tezuka. "That was not what I meant."

"No?"

"No. Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Prude," Keigo teased, and got tickled in retaliation. He'd always been ticklish, and when Tezuka realised that, he mercilessly took advantage of the fact. Soon Keigo was shrieking with laughter.

"Mercy! Mercy!" he panted, and Tezuka stilled his hands.

Keigo reached blindly behind himself, gripped a pillow and brought it down on Tezuka's head. There was a ripping noise, and the air was suddenly filled with feathers.

Keigo blinked. "Oops," he said and was treated to a sight of Tezuka laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his cheeks. Keigo smacked him with the pillow again, and more feathers floated into the air.

"I think," Tezuka said, and hiccuped, "I think I need a shower."

An hour later they were both showered and dressed and had even eaten breakfast. The driver had come to take them to the tennis club before going to pick up Aiko. The arrangement caused Tezuka to raise an eyebrow, but Keigo had no intention of suffering his parents that morning and even less of making Tezuka suffer them.

They had finished warming up when Aiko came running at them.

"Daddy! Daddy! I had so much fun with Grandma! We watched Moomins and played with legos, and even Grandpa came to say hello!" she explained breathlessly. She then seemed to notice her father wasn't alone, and when she realised who it was that was accompanying him, her mouth opened in surprise.

"Wow!" she breathed. "Are you really Tezuka-san?"

"Tezuka, meet my daughter Aiko," Keigo said, amused. "Aiko, this is Tezuka Kunimitsu-san."

"Oh, wow! It really is you!" Aiko was looking at Tezuka starry-eyed. "I saw you play at the U.S. Open, and I've watched all the recordings Daddy has of you, and you're really good and I want to be like you one day, and Daddy said that you'd play with me if I asked nicely, and please, please, won't you play with me?"

Tezuka blinked.

"Did I forget to tell you my daughter is a great fan of yours? Oops."

Tezuka levelled a look at him, and Keigo laughed.


End file.
